His-And-Hers Family

by Helen Lacey

  When she was fifteen, Fiona had been shipped back to her great-uncle...alone and scared and pregnant. Fiona had few illusions about Shayne. Her mother’s reaction to her pregnancy was borne out of anger and resentment. Three weeks after Fiona was left at her uncle’s farm, Shayne and her much younger rodeo-rider boyfriend were killed in a railway-

  crossing accident. She didn’t grieve, didn’t feel. There was too much hurt, too much betrayal, too much pain.

  Six months later Fiona had given up her baby after only fifteen minutes of holding her. She’d said goodbye to her precious daughter and handed her over to strangers, hoping with all her heart that her baby would be treasured by her new family, knowing that because she’d agreed to a closed adoption she could never look for her, and lived on the hope that one day her daughter would seek her out. But she’d never really believed it. Never let hope linger for too long.

  Until Wyatt Harper dropped into her world.

  Her daughter’s uncle. An envoy. Clearly here to check her out. Although, since he knew her full name, he’d probably done a fair amount of checking already. Fiona gripped her hands together. How much did he know? The paper trail was meager at best. With Shayne dead there was nothing linking Fiona to her mother’s lover. Or what had happened on that terrible night.

  Nothing except Cecily.

  No one knew the truth. No one ever would. Fiona had held on to her secret for over fourteen years. There was no mention of him anywhere. She hadn’t talked about it since the day she was dumped on her uncle’s doorstep. Her daughter’s birth certificate stated father unknown. He was dead. What good would rehashing it do now?

  Only...Wyatt Harper had turned up and she knew he’d have questions. Questions I can’t answer. There would be no nice way to admit the truth about her daughter’s conception.

  So what did he really want? Did her daughter actually want to meet her? And if so, where were her adoptive parents? Why had Wyatt Harper been sent on this digging mission?

  If she wanted answers, she had to pull herself together.

  First, a shower and a change of clothes. And then a strategy. She liked strategies and lists and being organized. She didn’t like being in the dark. She didn’t like Wyatt Harper knowing things about her when she knew nothing of him.

  She fingered the business card he’d given her. Seconds later she was at her computer and typed Harper Engineering into the search engine. It wasn’t long before she had a dozen or so hits. He was from the third generation of Harpers to run the steel-fabrication business. With well over one hundred employees at the huge factory on the outskirts of Sydney, he appeared to be doing everything right. There was a nice picture of him, too, with his father and grandfather. It was clearly a family business in the truest sense of the word.

  Fiona flicked off the computer and headed for the kitchen. Muffin, her energetic Tenterfield Terrier, jumped up at the back door, and she quickly let the dog inside and fed her. The card in her hand burned her fingertips. There was only one way to find out what he wanted.

  * * *

  He’d failed. When he’d promised Cecily he wouldn’t. Fiona Walsh obviously wasn’t prepared to talk, and Wyatt felt as if the door had been well and truly slammed. She’d said she needed time—but time for what? She’d looked horrified when he’d faced her with the news. Her pretty face had turned ghost-pale, emphasizing the brightness of her lips and sparkling blue-gray eyes.

  He shouldn’t have confronted her out in the open. Yesterday would have been better. But the moment he’d spotted her walking from her little house in her cute pajamas, he’d forgotten why he was there. Forgotten that he had a job to do and forgotten that Cecily was relying on him to not screw it up. But by the time he’d shaken the image of Fiona Walsh’s bouncing hair and pretty face out of his head, she had disappeared inside.

  Now, back in his hotel room, Wyatt had time to think about the way he’d ruined his chances. Cecily would be bitterly disappointed, and the last thing his niece needed was more of that. He checked emails and called his personal assistant. Glynis had been with him for ten years; she’d been with his father for twenty before that. The sixty-year-old widow was his right arm, sometimes his conscience and often his sounding board.

  “Your flight is booked for tomorrow morning,” she told him. “You are still coming back tomorrow, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  She made a disagreeable sound. “And Miss Walsh?”

  “I’ve made contact. We’ll see what happens.” He wasn’t about to admit he might have screwed up.

  “Just be careful,” she warned. “Sleeping dogs sleep for a good reason. Sometimes the past is best left where it is.”

  “It’s what Cecily wants,” he said and ended the call, feeling the weight of his promise to Cecily press between his shoulder blades.

  When his niece had asked him to find her birth mother, Wyatt hadn’t been surprised and he had understood her motives. Cecily wanted answers. Now that he’d met Fiona Walsh, Wyatt was intrigued and wanted some answers, too. He knew she was a teacher and had lived in Crystal Point for five years. Before that there had been a series of jobs at various schools, none lasting more than six months. She appeared to go from one small town to the next, never settling until now. What made Crystal Point different? Did she have roots in the small community? From the investigation he’d undertaken, Wyatt knew there were no relatives, only a great-uncle who’d passed away twelve months earlier and left her a modest inheritance after the sale of his property out west. There were no parents. No siblings. Not even a distant cousin she could claim as family.

  Fiona Walsh seemed to be as alone as a person could possibly get.

  She wasn’t married...but maybe she had a boyfriend? She was as pretty as hell, after all. Her hair was an amazing color, not red, not blond but an unusual mix of both. In more normal circumstances, Wyatt would probably have been attracted to her.

  Whoa...where did that come from?

  He was here on Cecily’s behalf. The kid had been through enough over the past eighteen months. Now she wanted to find her birth mother, and it was Wyatt’s job to help her. He wasn’t about to get caught up in Fiona’s lovely blue-gray eyes. He wasn’t about to rush into getting caught up with anyone, not after the disastrous end to his engagement eighteen months earlier. Yvette’s betrayal had left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  He knew he had to see Fiona again. He had to make her listen.

  His cell rang and he picked up on the third ring. “Wyatt Harper.”

  “I’ll meet you in half an hour.”

  Her husky voice was unmistakable. She’d called. Maybe he hadn’t screwed up after all? “Great. Shall I come to you?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “I’ll come to you.”

  Wyatt gave her the name of the hotel.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll meet you in the foyer at five o’clock.”

  Then she hung up.

  * * *

  Fiona’s drive into Bellandale took twenty minutes. The town was four hours north of Brisbane and had a population of sixty thousand. The streets were typically quiet for a Sunday afternoon, and she scored a parking spot outside the hotel. With her nerves severely stretched, she walked through the front doors and into the lobby.

  There was no sign of him. She checked her watch. Three minutes to five.

  Fiona ignored the concierge and headed for the lounge area in the centre of the lobby. There was a bar close by, and a waiter immediately approached to take her order. She declined and sank into one of the leather sofas. The foyer was eerily quiet, except for the faint sound of piped music and the occasion click of heels over the polished floor.

  “Hello, Fiona.”

  She snapped her neck around. Wyatt Harper had approached and stood only feet away. Fiona did her best to overlook the way her traitorous
belly flipped over. Okay...so he was good-looking and possessed the kind of body that was hard to ignore in his dark chinos and a white polo shirt. And he had great hair and glittering blue eyes. Big deal. The world was full of gorgeous men. And because this one had just dropped a bombshell into her organized little life, Fiona had every intention of ignoring the way her blood heated when he was within a six-foot radius.

  “Hello.”

  He looked at her oddly and the heat intensified. Fiona pushed her hair back with shaking fingers, suddenly nervous of his scrutiny. Something flashed in his eyes. Approval? Disapproval? Did she look as if she was trying too hard with her sensible denim skirt, modest print blouse and even more sensible sandals? Maybe she should have put her hair up instead of letting it curl madly around her head? She bit at her lower lip to get rid of the lipstick she’d dabbed on.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said.

  Fiona noticed the narrow black folder he carried. “I don’t see the point in hiding from the truth.”

  He nodded, sat down opposite her and placed the folder on the low table between them. “So you acknowledge that you’re Cecily’s birth mother?”

  Fiona inhaled. “I admit that I had a child fourteen years ago.” She pointed to the folder. “You seem to have all the evidence that she’s the baby I gave up for adoption.”

  “I do have proof,” he said quietly. “Although one look at Cecily would be enough to convince you.” He pushed himself back in the lounge. “She looks just like you. Same hair. Same chin. Same...” He looked at her mouth for a moment and Fiona’s skin warmed. “Same color eyes.”

  She managed a brittle smile and twirled a lock of hair between her fingertips. “Poor kid got stuck with this color.”

  He watched her actions with blistering intensity. “She’s very pretty.”

  Fiona’s heart began to beat a little faster. She drew in a breath and asked the question that burned on the end of her tongue. “What does she know about me?”

  Wyatt Harper’s eyes darkened fractionally. “She knows you were young when you had her. Cecily has always known she was adopted. My sister Karen and her husband, Jim, were open with her from an early age and supported her decision to find her birth mother when she was ready.”

  “And she’s ready now—is that what you’re saying?”

  He nodded. “She began talking about finding you nearly two years ago. Karen and Jim planned to start searching but...” He stopped and took a moment. When he spoke again, Fiona heard rawness in his voice. “They were killed eighteen months ago.”

  Emotion she didn’t understand clutched her throat. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “How did it happen?”

  “They were rock fishing,” he replied. “They got swept off a rock shelf. It was a crazy accident. They were mad for a dangerous sport and paid the price. When they died, that left Cecily—”

  “Alone,” Fiona said quickly and covered her mouth when she realized how it sounded.

  “No, not alone,” Wyatt told her pointedly. “She has her family. I was going to say that it left her with a lot to deal with. She handled it pretty well, considering. A few months ago, she announced she was ready to find you.”

  “She really wants to meet me?”

  He nodded. “Yes, she does.”

  Her breath caught again. My daughter wants to meet me. Fiona got goose bumps. This was what she wanted...right? To know the child she’d given up. She had everything to gain from such a meeting. Everything. Then why does the thought of it make me want to run?

  “When?” she asked and pulled herself forward.

  “It’s not that simple,” he said quietly.

  Fiona twisted her hands in her lap. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that Cecily has been through a lot, and as her legal guardian, I am going to make sure she is protected.”

  “From me?” she whispered and fought the rising annoyance. His responses were vague at best, and it irritated her no end. Fiona pulled her fractured nerves together. “I would never hurt her.”

  “Perhaps not intentionally. But I have to be sure about you. I need to be certain you won’t do anything to jeopardize Cecily’s emotional state.”

  Dumbstruck, Fiona glared at him with a mixture of disbelief and slowly gathering rage. His inference was insulting. But she quickly bit back her infamous redheaded temper. Getting mad with him wouldn’t serve her. He held all the cards. And he knew it. “So what do I have to say to prove that I wouldn’t do anything to upset her?”

  He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “How about you start by telling me why you gave your baby away?”

  Chapter Two

  Wyatt knew he was out of line. She looked as if she wanted to slap his face. But he had to know what kind of person Fiona Walsh was before he’d let her into Cecily’s life, no matter how much his niece wanted to know her.

  It didn’t help that she was so incredibly pretty his mind kept wandering.

  “Isn’t it in the file?” Her eyes darkened as she pointed to the folder between them. “I’m assuming that’s some sort of report about me, about my life? If you’ve done your homework, you’d know that I was fifteen when I had Cecily and not in a position to care for a child.”

  “And your parents?”

  “My mother’s dead,” she supplied. “But I guess you already knew that.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I know your mother was killed in a train-crossing accident with her boyfriend.”

  “And you know the man she claimed was my father died when I was three years old.”

  “Claimed?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “She married Eddie Walsh and I was born six months later. They only lived together for two years. I was told he disappeared and then died in a rodeo accident, although I’m not actually sure that’s true. He could have skipped to avoid paying child support for all I know. What else do you want to know?”

  There was enough bristle in her tone to make it clear she had a temper but was doing her best to keep it under wraps. “You’re being very candid.”

  She raised a brow. “Isn’t that what you want? Answers...and an opportunity to see if I’m respectable and responsible enough to meet Cecily?”

  “I don’t—”

  “And once you figure that out, Mr. Harper,” she said, cutting him off without batting a lash, “you can answer my questions.”

  There’s that temper.

  Wyatt might have liked her to simply back down and agree to everything he said but he didn’t really expect it. And he respected her spirit. “Wyatt.”

  “What?”

  “My name,” he replied. “It’s Wyatt.”

  “Okay...Wyatt...so ask me another question. Ask me as many questions as you like.”

  He went for the most important. “Cecily’s father? There’s no record of him on the birth certificate.”

  “No record.” Visible shutters quickly came up and it waved like a red flag. “That’s right. It’s what I wanted.”

  Wyatt pressed on. “Is there any chance he might make an appearance in her life?”

  “No chance,” she replied hollowly. “He’s dead.”

  Dead? He hadn’t expected that. “Who was he?”

  “No one.”

  He immediately wondered if she knew who Cecily’s biological father was, but didn’t like how the question sounded rolling around in his head. “Does he have a name?”

  “Since he’s dead it really doesn’t make any difference.”

  “Unless his family tries to have some claim on Cecily in the future.”

  “They won’t,” she said stiffly. “No one knows about him. My mother made sure of it.”

  Wyatt’s interest grew. “She didn’t approve?”

  “What mother would approve
of her fifteen-year-old daughter being pregnant?”

  He nodded slowly. “You said you weren’t in a position to care for a child? Did you mean because of your age or something else?”

  “I lived with my elderly great-uncle,” she said stiffly. “My mother was dead. I was two years away from finishing high school. I had no income and no way of supporting myself or my baby.”

  It sounded like an impossible situation for a teenage girl. “If it’s any consolation to you, Karen and Jim loved Cecily very much. They’d been trying to have a baby for a long time. Cecily brought them a great deal of happiness.”

  She smiled and the sparks in her eyes faded. “They didn’t have any other children?”

  Wyatt begrudgingly admired how she’d seamlessly moved the questions onto him. “Just Cecily.”

  “And you’re her guardian now?”

  “That’s right,” he replied. “Karen was the daughter from my father’s first marriage and she was twelve years older than me.”

  She nodded fractionally. “So, you and your wife care for her?”

  “I’m not married,” he said but was pretty sure she knew that already from the look on her face.

  Her expression narrowed. “Does Cecily live with you?”

  “She spends most of her time at Waradoon, our family property in the Hunter Valley, which is just over an hour’s drive from Harper Engineering. My parents are retired and my youngest sister still lives at home. Cecily goes to the local high school and is well settled. I have a place in the city but go to Waradoon most weekends. If not, Cecily visits me in the city.”

  “Why did they grant guardianship to you?”

  He’d wondered it himself in the beginning. Neither Karen nor Jim had discussed what would happen to their daughter upon their deaths. Finding out he was named sole custodian of their precious child had come as a shock.

  “Jim had no siblings and his parents are both in poor health,” he explained. “My mother spends as much time with Cecily as she can. But my father is over seventy with a heart condition, my sister Ellen has a four-year-old and two-year-old twins, and my youngest sister, Rae, is twenty-five and in her third year of studying veterinary medicine.”